


Fixed Frequencies

by Sacramental_Wine



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Prequel, Shameless Smut, Sticky Sex, The things I do for love, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sacramental_Wine/pseuds/Sacramental_Wine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" “‘Hi Perceptor, sorry to drop in on you like this but I need your help. My voice modulator has broken and I need it fixed before anyone finds out,’” Perceptor read. “Really Drift it cannot possibly be that bad. Why do you even have a modulator?” " Perceptor was Drift's only option for getting his voice modulator fixed. Can been seen as a prequel to "For Science!".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixed Frequencies

**Author's Note:**

> Again with my trine mates. This one is something of a prequel to "For Science!" but neither one is necessary to understand the other. It's all just porn in good fun. I hope you enjoy it.

Drift had gotten the modulator installed a long time ago and had forgotten about it almost immediately after its installation. It hadn’t been a necessity but at the time it made sense; less intimidating frame, less intimidating voice, seemed simple enough. He’d fit in better among the Autobots. No need to replace the part when it could just be modified. The problem with forgetting about such a thing was the fact that parts, even insignificant ones, needed upkeep and Drift wasn’t particularly responsible with the important ones let alone the minutia.

In light of this information, it shouldn’t be a surprise to know that his modulator managed to break down right as he was finishing up a meeting with Ultra Magnus and Rodimus. Drift only just managed to hear the slow whirring click of a part cycling down before he opened his mouth to reply to Magnus’ statement. He offlined his vocalizer just in case.

 “Any questions?” Ultra Magnus asked. Rodimus hadn’t been paying attention for a while now and Drift just shook his head. This, of course, led Magnus to continue to talk about the lack of discipline among the ranks and finally Rodimus had enough.

“Do we have to do this every time you see a comma out of place in one of the memos?” Rodimus asked and the ensuing argument gave Drift just enough cover to slip out of the office and make a break for it. He’d get chewed out for it later but for now he needed to figure out who he could go to so this could get fixed.

Ratchet was out; he didn’t think he could take the “good-natured” teasing in light of this. Brainstorm too; he’d probably turn it into a throat mounted laser. First Aid would probably freak out and Ambulon…just not Ambulon. Realistically that left Perceptor who was the only acceptable option. At least Drift knew Perceptor well enough that he wasn’t going to suffer because of his neglect of his modulator. It also gave him an excuse to visit the scientist and it had been a while since they had gotten the chance to catch up. It was as good an excuse as any.

Drift made his way down the hall, hoping that Perceptor would have a data-pad on hand for him to explain the issue and that the other scientists were off shift.

 

It turned out to be the sword mech’s lucky day since all he saw when he walked into the lab was Perceptor bent over some schematic and no one else to be found. Drift knocked on the doorframe and the scientist looked up from his work to acknowledge his visitor. “Drift, what brings you here?” he asked. Drift smiled and made the motion of writing. Perceptor tilted his head. “Um, Drift? Is something wrong?” Drift pointed at his throat and made the motion of writing again.

Primus bless him, Percy picked up on things quickly. He handed Drift a data-pad and waited. He watched the sword mech quickly type out a message then pass back the pad. “‘Hi Perceptor, sorry to drop in on you like this but I need your help. My voice modulator has broken and I need it fixed before anyone finds out,’” he read. “Really Drift it cannot possibly be that bad. Why do you even have a modulator?” Drift at least had the good grace to look sheepish when he extended a servo to take the pad back. Another quick flurry of fingers across the screen and Perceptor was back to reading. “‘I didn’t want to replace the original part when I got my new frame so they installed a modulator.’ I’m sure it is not that bad; just say something. I will fix it.”

Well, it couldn’t do too much harm and Perceptor and he were actually kind of close so he probably wouldn’t freak out. Probably. Drift smiled sheepishly and clicked his vocalizer to online it. Drift hadn’t even heard his own natural voice in such a long time he had forgotten how he sounded. Perceptor was looking at him expectantly and Drift ex-vented harshly to get himself ready. Zen, Drift, zen. “I’m not sure how comfortable I am with this,” he managed to say, no growl out. Drift put a hand to his throat and grimaced, man he did sound scary. He was almost afraid of Perceptor’s reaction.

Said reaction being stunned silence and the distinct feeling of the lab’s temperature escalating; Perceptor was tempted to reset his audio receptors to make sure of what he’d just heard. It wasn’t as though he had just started finding Drift attractive, far from it actually. He’d been attracted to the sword mech since they met but he’d never had such a…strong reaction to just the sound of his voice before. Perceptor swallowed and motioned for Drift to come closer. “See? It is not that bad. Have a seat and I will see what I can do,” Perceptor said. Was his own voice dipping lower? No just a trick of his imagination.

Drift grinned brilliantly. Perceptor wasn’t completely put off so it wasn’t really that bad. He sat on a stool and allowed Perceptor to take a close look at the wiring in his throat. “I really appreciate this, Percy,” he said, keeping his voice low and steady in an attempt to negate the growling undertone. It wasn’t quite working if one took the sudden shaking motion in Perceptor’s knee struts as a scientific indication.

“It...It is no trouble at all Drift,” the scientist said, “just keep...speaking for a moment so I can better understand the tonal differences and fix your modulator properly.” Not just to hear you say my name in _that_ voice, no surely nothing so puerile as that, he thought. Of course it wasn’t exactly a burden to hear Drift speak and seemingly rub his sensor net raw with just a sound. Perceptor could have tried harder to keep from imagining Drift speaking to him with that voice under less innocent circumstances.

“What should I talk about?”

“ _Anything_...Er rather, anything that comes to mind really. You could tell me a story or just talk about anything for a while.”

A thoughtful look flitted across Drift’s face-plates. What could he talk about for a long time? The Knights would probably bore Perceptor...wait! Sword techniques were always interesting to everyone...right? But where to start?  He started to feel the nervousness creeping back in. Was that too violent of a topic? Maybe talking about that would actually scare him off. Drift almost powered down his vocalizer again until Perceptor put a servo on his arm. “Go ahead Drift, anything you are comfortable with.”

Drift probably would have been less than pleased at Perceptor calling him adorable to his face in light of the current predicament. That didn’t stop him from thinking it though. Drift visibly relaxed under his touch and vented deeply. Perceptor pulled a bench over and sat, better to hide the inevitable structural instability in his knee joints that way, leaning close enough to catch the nuances.

“Well, when using a sword in extended combat you have to make each movement matter. It would be too easy to get winded by just hacking away at your opponent when a well placed thrust can get the job done more efficiently. Your opponent gets taken out and you can retain the stamina to fight for longer periods of time.” The sword mech was starting to relax; he could actually talk about this without being at a loss for words. “The longer you can keep up the momentum, the more satisfying the hits end up being. It’s all about rhythm actually, keeping it steady when there are a lot of distractions.”

Well. Well _frag_. Logically, swords were not suggestive. Logically, Drift was talking about proper energy conservation in a life or death situation. In reality, Perceptor’s logic circuits had fried when Drift got into his diatribe and all he could think of was how such discipline would manage to show itself in the berth. Perhaps Perceptor should have considered the repercussions of his actions before Drift started talking about one of his passions in terminology that could make anything suggestive to the scientist’s overheated processor. Perceptor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Primus he could listen to Drift talk forever.

“The thing you always have to keep in mind is keeping your stance wide but firm, you’ll lose the rhythm of your strikes if…Perceptor? Are you okay? I’m not making you uncomfortable am I?” Drift noticed the shifting. Scrap. He was clearly sensitive about his problem and he rarely if ever spoke so much in a single sitting. Perceptor scrambled to get his normally brilliant mid out of the proverbial gutter.

“Not at all, Drift. Please, this is all very stimulating,” Perceptor let the word slip before he’d even had a chance to rethink it. He felt his faceplate flush. “What I mean to say is that you have a wonderful…no not what I mean, not that you don’t, what I mean is…” What could Perceptor do when once trusted words actually began to fail him? Why what any well adjusted bot would do; stare helplessly at the object of their auditory induced fantasies and hope they’d offer a way out.

“Wonderful what?”

Well THAT wasn’t a way out was it? Perceptor felt that Drift had clearly missed the purpose of his desperate look. Though what kind of desperate was up for debate wasn’t it? “Perceptor?” Oh Primus that _voice_ and those wonderfully cobalt optics were running all over him and their EM fields were brushing and it was like a physical touch that sent crackling heat along his sensor net. Drift leaned closer so their fields began to tangle around each other and the sword mech shivered. “Percy?” he whispered. It was almost enough to break the scientist. It was the servo lying on his leg and the small, self-deprecating smile that Drift offered that did it.

When he closed the admittedly short distance between them he had been expecting a rejection or worse. Drift, surprisingly as ever, kissed back instead. It was slow and deep and Perceptor shuttered his optics as a full body shudder went through him. They should have been doing this ages ago. Before the _Lost Light_ , before the craziness and the too many distractions they could have been doing this forever ago and the thought made Perceptor push hard into the kiss. Drift growled in approval before tangling their glossae together and wrapping his arms around Perceptor’s waist.

Perceptor looped his arms around Drift’s shoulders and let his fingers dance along the raised crests at the sides of his helm; drawing a rumbling purr from Drift who pulled him closer. The scientist hummed softly at the rough, desirous texture of Drift’s EM field twisting with his own. The sword mech pulled out of the kiss far too soon for Perceptor’s liking and they looked at each other for a moment; a moment silent save for the thrumming of engines, the whirring of cooling fans, and the rush of energon in their fuel lines. Their servos didn’t remain still; they traced gently over seams in plating and exposed cables; discovering something old and new all at once.

“How…”

“Always.”

Two words was all it took to break the silence and send them careening back together; servos digging between plates and glossae pulling seasoned sweet secrets between the press of lips. Words, Perceptor thought at logic was whisked away from him, were perhaps the greatest encumbrance because there was truth in the silence of tangled wants. Where words could fail, frames could not and they both had wanted this for longer than felt possible. If asked later Perceptor would have no recollection of how they ended up sprawled over the desk with cracked data-pads glistening on the floor around them; all he would care about is that it happened.

Drift knelt between the scientist’s legs as they continued to kiss. Perceptor’s digits dug in between his hip plating and his scabbards and it sent a shower of electric shocks through his neural net. He moved to kiss and nip at Perceptor’s neck cables; he reveled in each quiet gasp and caught vent that the sharp and soft sensations brought. Drift ran his servos along Perceptor’s thighs while he mouthed around his jaw to mouth the side of the scope that jutted from the scientist’s shoulder. An almost silent whine escaped Perceptor at the touch of lips against his scope and a positively _devilish_ smirk took over Drift’s features.

The sword mech wasted no time tracing his denta and lip plates up the side of the scope until his glossa touched the miniscule seam between glass and metal. Drift ex-vented across the lens to watch the condensation collect across the convex surface only to lap it up. The way Perceptor arched and moaned at each quick, fleeting touch made Drift’s spike press urgently against his interface panel. Primus, Perceptor was beautiful. So distracted was the sword mech that he didn’t realized that he had given voice to his thought.

Perceptor flushed hot all over at the praise and shuddered even harder under Drift’s touches. The click of his own interface panel sliding out of the way shocked him and he clung to Drift tighter from embarrassment. This didn’t get passed the sword mech who leaned close to Perceptor’s audial and quietly began to speak.

“You’re beautiful; Percy,” he growled out, “and I never imagined I’d get to watch you like this. Arching and begging with your body, it’s amazing. I used to picture it all the time. I still do and nothing I thought of could have lived up to the reality.” The confession was interspersed with kisses to Perceptor’s audial and Drift’s servos mapping out his trembling thighs. Drift trailed his mouth along the top of Perceptor’s chest plate; memorizing each seam.

Perceptor felt lubricant drip from his valve and in between his thighs after each word Drift said. Perceptor moaned and pressed a servo between his legs to slip a digit into his own valve while the sword mech was talking. He was having a hard time being patient and his ventilations stalled when he pressed against a node hard. “Drift!” The sound of his own name shocked the sword mech into silence and forced his gaze to follow the line of Perceptor’s arm.

Drift’s interface panel practically flew open at the sight of Perceptor fingering himself open. He squeezed the scientist’s thighs in a half hearted attempt to keep his self control. His optics widened with every sharp vent and little whimper Perceptor let loose. “Percy…”

“Drift, you _nhh_ listen here,” Perceptor moaned, “either _mmmm_ you spike me now or I swear to, _ah_ , Primus I will tie you down and get the job done my self!” He drove his fingers in deeper like he had so many times before and looked Drift dead in the optics before he arched his back with a strut-melting cry. He heard the sword mech’s engine stall and then a loud, feral growl before his hands were pulled away from his own interface equipment and a spike was pressed against the rim of his valve. Drift lifted the scientist’s legs to wrap them around his waist and kissed the mech beneath him hard before beginning the slow slide inward.

The scientist, however, felt that he had waited long enough and his patience had officially run out long ago. Perceptor pulled Drift forward with his legs and impaled himself on Drift’s spike decisively. He panted into the sword mech’s mouth and purred, “I said spike me Drift, not make me wait longer than I already have.” It probably would have sounded more authoritative if Perceptor wasn’t rolling his hips roughly against Drift’s and making part of the other mech’s processor shut down.

Drift buried his helm in Percy’s neck cables and thrust his hips forward hard. “So _tight_ ,” Drift rumbled, “so wet. I could do this forever.” He began to lose coherency as each word made Perceptor’s valve calipers tighten exponentially. Percy rocked his hips to Drift’s rhythm and dug his digits into the seams behind his scabbards again. It pulled a snarl from the sword mech and a snapping of his hips.

If Drift kept talking, Perceptor was going to overload all too soon. The scientist was beyond words though, beyond warnings as Drift’s spike hit his ceiling nodes hard and fast. Crackling blue arcs of electricity danced between their frames and their EM fields pulsed harshly with pent up lust. Drift bit Perceptor’s neck cables hard and snapped his hips forward as the scientist’s valve spiraled down tight onto his spike and squeezed. Drift pulled back to watch Perceptor's face, tight with ecstacy and biting on his own servos. Drift pulled his hand away to kiss him, to stay close while he increased their pace.

Overload hit them both at once and neither could stop moving until a secondary overload screamed through Perceptor’s neural net and grounded itself in Drift’s overheated plating. Perceptor and Drift moaned and writhed against each other as the last of the overcharge worked its way out of their systems. They lay against each other for a long while, cooling fans on their highest setting and not willing to part just yet.

“Percy I…”

“Drift, I am exhausted.”

“What does…”

“It means, my dear, that until I fix your modulator, which will have to wait until I can feel my legs again, you will have to remain quiet. I am not quite up to a repeat performance yet.”

Drift just smiled and stayed quiet, peppering Perceptor’s face plates and neck with kisses. At least that meant there would be a next time.


End file.
